


Black Leather

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [28]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cultural Differences, Episode: s6e18 Inquisition, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, Literary References & Allusions, There Was Not Supposed to be Any Angst But then Julian Happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Julian ponders what Section 31 might mean for his future while Garak broods and is then seduced.





	Black Leather

Y Julian imagines that Sloan’s attempts to kidnap him and force into some virtual trial would have been at least partially successful if he still lived alone. He would’ve figured it out eventually, of course - he’s very detail-focused and Sloan has never met any of them before. There is only so much one can get from spyware and files. It might have even been something of a triumph for Starfleet if Julian had caught him in his own trap and managed to bring him to Odo.

 But Julian _doesn’t_ live alone and Elim spots Sloan before the other man can even _think_ about touching him, suddenly pushing Julian down to the ground when he’s in the middle of saying goodbye to Kukalaka. Sloan appears from the walls like some kind of shadow creature, blond hair slightly messy as he dives out toward both of them. Julian’s reflexes are quick enough to roll them out of the way, and in seconds Elim has the other man pinned to the wall with just his hand.

 Sloan tells with Julian to join Section 31 in a voice that manages to be seductive and repellant all at once, to use his genetic enhancements to keep men like him - or who were like him, before the war - sleep at night. Garak drops his hand for what feels like less than a nanosecond, eyes widening at the words Section 31. Sloan disappears before either of them can so much as blink.

 It doesn’t matter in the end. Sloan leaves a note saying he’ll be back and Julian takes it to Sisko with fire in his eyes, because they need to stop this. He needs to stop this. The Federation is better than assassins and spies, and if they’re not then - well then Julian has nothing and he’s not ready to accept that. Not yet.

 Julian comes back to his quarters wired, half wanting to work the energy off with Miles in another imaginary battle and half wanting to punch his pillow until he calms down. Julian settles for reading a novel while watching Garak prune the plants he brought from his old quarters out of the corner of his eye. “Captain Sisko wants me to accept Sloan’s offer if he comes back.”

 “Does he? He’s usually not so short-sighted.” Elim lets out a low sigh as he carefully clips the edge of a leaf on his plant, a small smile coming over his face. Julian watches how carefully he spreads his hands over each blossom, the way he seems to give each one their own special focus as though he can tell immediately what the plants need from him. Julian supposes that’s what makes him such a good spy and possibly what he thinks would make Julian a bad one.

 “Short-sighted?” Julian raises an eyebrow as he leans back against the throw blanket Elim’s spread across his - _their_ \- couch, the dove grey a stark contrast to the navy blue of cushions. He flips to the next page of his padd without really paying attention to what he’s reading, letters and words blending together. He glances up at Elim as neutrally as possible, doing his best to force the slightly wounded look out of his expression. “From the sounds of it we’d be going for the long con.”

 Elim lets out a small laugh, soft and dissipating in the air almost as soon it slipped from his mouth. Elim takes a step back from his row of plants with a hint of a smile, an amused look in his eyes when he glances over at Julian. “I meant choosing you, my dear.”

 “Thank you, Elim.” Julian says dryly as he keeps reading his padd, paying just a touch more attention to whatever it is that Bertie Wooster is saying this time. Elim raps his wrist with his hand a few times, as though chiding him for pouting even though Julian’s not even doing anything close to it. Julian is mature enough not to throw one of the several throw pillows Garak’s added around the room at his face. Mostly because the other man is currently replicating them some red leaf tea, but still.  

 “Of course, I have no doubts about your abilities.” Elim assures with a wry grin that makes Julian question how much he should actually believe that. He stiffens a little as he crosses his arms, hands pressing into his elbows. Elim takes a deep breath, his gaze wary as he glances over at Julian again. There’s a pause, a tension to the air as Elim walks over to the couch, placing Julian’s cup of tea on the end table and looking up at him carefully.“I just have no interest in watching you slowly destroy yourself, and I wouldn’t have thought the Captain did either.”

 Julian’s grips on his elbows only grows tighter at Elim’s words and at the quietly worried look on the other man’s face. He’s not a _child_ , no matter how ridiculous _some_ people think his hobbies are. Julian hadn’t spent months after the incident with the wire treating Elim like he was made out of glass, so it was hardly fair for him to do it now just because of his spell on The Defiant. Either they’re equals or there’s no point in any of this. “Destroy myself? I wouldn’t be destroying myself, I’d be restoring the Federation to what it _should_ be.”

 “Ideally, but even _you_ must have realized that things rarely work out that way in war, my dear.” Elim’s voice is more of a warning now, a familiar edge that Julian takes a strange comfort in. He knows that derisive tone, from Elim and his father and even Captain Sisko from time to time. The belief that Julian is an Icarus who will eventually fly too close to some sun, burn himself into the bitter ash he thought he was becoming on the Defiant. Julian doesn’t doubt it. But Icarus inspired his father into action and inspired others for generations. If Julian can make even that much of a dent in Section 31, make one Admiral question its existence, then his life - however it’s lost - is worth it.

 “I’m willing to make whatever sacrifices it takes to protect the Federation from a rotting piece.” Julian says quietly as he meets Elim’s eyes with a steady gaze of his own, his right hand gripping his mug so tightly that his knuckles start to change colors. Elim lets out a low exhale, gaze slowly going blank so Julian can’t guess at what he’s feeling. Not that he can half the time anyway.

 “That’s what I’m afraid of. At best, you’ll end up in a Federation prison.” Elim says in a low voice, one hand coming to lie on top of Julian’s own in a way he’s sure is meant to be reassuring. Julian can’t help the disbelief that bubbles in his chest or the way he shakes his head, eyes falling shut to try and hide the laughter in his gaze. As though he hasn’t been planning for what life in a Federation prison would be like since he was 15, hasn’t studied it in careful detail to the point where he knows everything from the ID number for the paint used on the walls to exact amount of time it would take to break him. As though he hasn’t already spent a month in far worse conditions.

 Julian knows he’s done a poor job of hiding his mirth when he opens his eyes, Elim’s stare bordering on withering as he takes another sip of his tea. Hypotheticals aren’t the same as genuine experience for Elim. Julian still meets his gaze steadily, picking up his own cup of tea as though in cheers. Elim watches him take a long sip and Julian purposefully shows the lean lines of his neck in case this turns into an argument. “And at worst?”

 Elim merely scoffs in response before taking a sip of his own tea, his hand sliding from Julian’s own to rest on his knee instead. His expression is still carefully blank when he meets Julian’s gaze, as though he’s not even willing to have the discussion _he_ started. Elim really could be obnoxious at times. “I don’t think we’d agree on what defines worse.”

 “Maybe not. But you have to admit that I would’ve looked rather dashing in that uniform.” Julian murmurs as he leans in with a hooded gaze, letting his voice drop an octave. If they’re not actually going to have a conversation about this, Julian would rather just move on and not sit here brooding without talking to each other all night. God knows they’ve both done enough of that for one lifetime. Julian wants to go back to who he used to be, when he didn’t pick fights with people all the time and where what he believes didn’t always keep him from what he wants.

 Elim just watches him without saying anything for several seconds. Then Elim sets down his cup of tea, lips curling into a knowing smile as a spark comes into his eyes. His tone borders on a much more playful derisive when he speaks this time. “It was a bit obvious.”

 “Maybe, but imagine me parading around in all that skintight black leather, every inch of me hidden and on display all at once.” Julian murmurs as he sets his own teacup to the side, spreading out on the couch so his body touches nearly every part of it. Julian lets his legs dangle over the edge of one arm, right ankle brushing against the hardwood of the end table. Elim raises an eye ridge, shaking his head a little before he starts pushing on Julian’s shoulders. Julian gets the message, leaning up just enough for Elim to sit down as well. Then Julian falls back, head in Elim’s lap and his right hand reaching up to grip the other man’s forearm.  

Elim runs his hand through Julian’s hair a few times, pulling lightly on a few locks and letting his fingers get tangled in them. Julian makes a sound that borders on a purr, pushing up into the touch. “I suppose it _would_ be preferable to your civilian clothes.”

 Julian scoffs as he slides his hand down Elim’s forearm until it presses against the slight ridges that laid just above Elim’s wrist. They’ve always been particular favorites of his. Julian gives Elim what he likes to think is a charming, winsome smile. Julian brings up the hand not running up and down Elim’s ridges to rest on his jaw instead, thumb sliding across his lip just a touch too delicately to be flirtatious. Elim tugs at his hair again, soft but somehow also filled with promises to come. “I don’t know, Elim, you seemed rather fond of them on Risa.”

 “I seem to remember spending most of my time ripping them off of you after the first few nights.” Elim murmurs into his hair as he bends over to lightly press a kiss to the side of Julian’s jaw, the grip on his growing tighter. Julian keeps his eyes open, gaze locked on Elim’s face. There’s something wary, doubting in his gaze. Julian wonders over it’s his choice to be here like this in the first place or over stopping the conversation earlier, of not seeing where Section 31 would lead either of them. But the look goes away as quickly as it spread across his face, replaced with something more flirtatious and fond.

 “That’s not a very compelling argument for me updating my wardrobe, Elim.” Julian points out as he licks his lips slowly, adding more pressure to his thumb as he slides it over Elim’s mouth again. Then he pulls his thumb away and pushes himself up just enough to press his mouth against Elim’s own, his right arm wrapping around his neck lazily. Elim grins brightly against his mouth, hand sliding down from his hair to rest against the back of his neck instead as he shifts them both into a position where kissing becomes easier.

 Elim’s gaze is playful and almost dangerous, their not-argument seemingly forgotten in favor of propping Julian up with one arm. Elim starts nipping the side of his neck, leaving tiny marks where each ridge would be if he were Cardassian. His voice is more like a purr when he speaks again. “I’d prefer to rip something nicer off of you.”

 Julian lets out a breathy laugh as Elim mouths his clavicle, his hands gliding down the strong muscles of Elim’s back until they rest against his hips instead. He slides his hands between their bodies, fingers wrapping around Elim’s belt. His voice comes out in a whisper as he leans up until he’s practically in Elim’s lap. “Then make me that black leather catsuit.”

**Author's Note:**

> A: I figured this would have to diverge, because Garak's skills are honed enough he'd notice someone attempting to kidnap Sloan, however he managed to do that.
> 
> B: Hi, I know I've asked this before, but if anyone (who is over 21 since I am an old) would want to talk to me about this ship/fic series/your ideas for fics please let me know. I'm still trying to figure out how I think Garak feels/thinks and a more general question, and while my own grammar is questionable, I'm really good at noticing it in other works. I have Discord, Whatsapp, and Google Hangouts.


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